


A Little Love and Attention

by ADevilsHunger (Dream_tempo)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Body Worship, Cock Warming, Come Inflation, Come Shot, Comeplay, Drabble, Face-Sitting, Fingerfucking, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Prostate Massage, Prostate Milking, Teabagging, musk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 17:56:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9453176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_tempo/pseuds/ADevilsHunger
Summary: “No, no. That’s not– it’s just– this isn’t like a thing. It’s not like I’m offering to buy you a pizza for helping assemble some Ikea furniture.”It's mating season and Derek has a bit of a problem he can only ask his best friend for help with. Only thing is, that problem's in his pants.





	

**Author's Note:**

> From the prompt on my tumblr, "I'm kinda obsessed with teabagging lately so maybe Derek as an alpha has his balls so full that it even gets painful somedays and so he at first try to bear this alone in his broody way but then Stiles or somebody else finally notice it and then the pack are offering themselves to take care of his balls and to massage them with their tongue while he just let them rest in their mouth, like balls handlers or something although knowing Stiles his tongue would probably end up all over Derek's junk"
> 
> I had intended for this to be short and stupid and just a little fun nothing, but then I started having feels and it got long enough I kind of wanted to post it. So here it is. I hope it's worth its own work title. If not, sorry. :P

“This doesn’t have to be awkward.” 

Derek doesn’t really know how to respond to that. In fact, he’s really not sure he’s ever been more mortified in his entire life– and he’d been caught masturbating by his mother, who insisted on having _the talk_ while his hands were still sticky. But at least that was _a thing._ That happened to people, lots of people. This?

Stiles was looking at him impatiently, laid out on his couch in the softest looking pajamas Derek’s ever seen. He’s utterly casual about it, head pillowed on the low, overstuffed arm, one of his own tucked behind it. “I can ask someone else to come if you really don’t want me doing it– I just thought I’d offer first, y’know?” 

Derek shuffles his feet on the hardwood floor, staring down at his woolen socks for a moment, one hand harshly gripping the opposite elbow. “No, no. That’s not– it’s just– this isn’t like a _thing._ It’s not like I’m offering to buy you a pizza for helping assemble some Ikea furniture.” 

“Dude, there should totally be pizza. White sauce, banana peppers, philly steak. Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. And my Netflix queue it totally backed up. I mean, I probably won’t be able to see past your pubes, but whatever. When do I ever get the excuse to just chill for a couple hours?” 

More disbelief seems appropriate, but Stiles just huffs an amused chuckle and fishes his phone out of his pocket. Derek stares as Stiles calls in the order, adds garlic cheese knots, some ginger ale, and then fishes through Derek’s wallet in the keybowl on the counter to give a card number. 

He makes himself totally at home and signs himself into Netflix, arranges plates and cups on the coffee table, gives Derek a sympathetic wince when he sees the alpha wolf unable to help groping at his swollen self through his low slung sweat pants. They don’t talk waiting for the delivery to get there, but share amiable grunts and chatter as they mow through most the food. 

Once Stiles has finished licking the grease from his fingers, kneaded at the little pooch of his stuffed stomach, and coached Derek through breathing exercises _again_ he takes up the same position. Sore and more than a little exhausted with trying to ignore his discomfort these last weeks, Derek finally gives in and drops trow. 

He’d been freeballing the whole time and Stiles lets loose a low, long whistle as he eyes the engorged swell of Derek’s hairy nuts. They hang low enough that the soft length of his uncut cock is pillowed in the swing of them, slightly uneven and currently about the size of an overripe orange. “Man, you really let this get out of hand. You should have said something!” 

“Ya, sure Stiles. Hey guys, it’s mating season so now that I’m alpha my body’s gonna want me to breed like we’re going extinct. So if I don’t knot like four times a day, my sack’s gonna get so swollen I can’t sit down. Thoughts?” Stiles just shrugs at him, like that seems totally reasonable, and suddenly Derek is way less opposed to wanting to smother him a little. 

He rolls his eyes back and just walks over, arching an eyebrow to ask if Stiles is ready before hopping up onto the couch arm, straddling the boy’s face, and then lowering himself into a squat. His ears burn and he has to hide his face in his hands, but he keeps from groaning in relief as the weight of them rests on Stiles. The tug of their hang had been uncomfortable all on its own and before they even start, this is enough to have his thighs quivering a little in relief. 

He feels Stiles’ nose slowly drag across the backside of them, running up and down, venturing all the way to his perineum before coming back down. “Fuck. You-uhm. You smell really good.” Derek shivers at the hot ghost of his breath, clenching his ass a little at the way it tickles through the wiry hair. He tries to ignore it, but his cock plumps up a little– just enough to fatten but not rise. 

He doesn’t reply as Stiles starts kitten licking at the warm, loose skin, nudging the individual orbs back and forth to cover every little crease. Derek’s brows furrow and his eyes close and the breathy sigh that slips from his open mouth is nothing if not thankful.

Stiles’ hands cup up to grip at the backs of his thighs, giving the boy a bit of leverage as he starts to intermittently suckle at the round of a testicle, kiss the crease of Derek’s thigh, nip at his taint. Derek’s back arches and he can’t help the little, wounded mewls and moans that drop from his lips– broken-off, quiet things that make his face burn. 

Stiles is– fuck he’s good at this. Derek’s dick only stays half hard, but starts to drool steady strings of precum. The glistening liquid pools in his foreskin before dripping down in little puddles on Stiles’ chin. The boy pays them little mind as he starts trying to open his mouth wide enough to rest one of Derek’s balls completely in his mouth. He’d have to unhinge his jaw to make it happen, but the warm wet is enough to have Derek sweating in his hairline and unconsciously rolling his hips. 

Derek kind of loses track of time– neither of them paying attention to the show playing in background or the light changing through the wall of windows. Derek doesn’t even really register the fact that at some point, Stiles started taking all that precum and put it to use burying his long, sure fingers in Derek’s ass. 

He just enters this quakey, fevered, pleasurable fugue. He feels _good–_ strung out, nearly delirious, shaking and kind of sore– better than he has in a long time. He has to lick sweat off his upper lip, readjust the plant of his feet, roll his neck, but he lets himself get lost in it. 

When the fog breaks, his eyes flutter open, and his nose flares as he scents a heavy, fresh musk. It takes a moment for everything to come into focus, but he’s looking at Stiles’ body beneath him. The boy is clothed, but _drenched_ in cum. Those fingers had been gently, lovingly massaging his prostate the entire time, and though Derek had never gotten fully hard, he’d apparently come enough to coat the kids torso completely. 

His thighs shook and with a little cry, he wobbled as he stood, pulling off Stiles’ fingers and away from his mouth. The boy’s face was revealed– hair matted and sweaty, mouth swollen and glistening, eyes hooded and cloudy. He snuffled and wriggled a little, but eventually blinked a half dozen times in quick succession and then gave Derek a shy, sweet smile. “Feeling better, big guy?”

His voice was rough and raspy, breaking up as he cleared his throat and seemed to only just notice the rest of his body existing. His long legs jerked as he tried to shake them a little, his back popping as he tried to sit up. Derek felt a little buzzed, a lot sleepy, and just… loose and light and loving. 

He got down off the couch, rubbing at his thighs, and noted that the angry, obscene swell of his balls had finally gone down. They were still notably large for a man, but Derek had always been a little ridiculous down there. They were healthy again– sore, but in that way after the best kind of fuck. Derek couldn’t help his lazy, lopsided smile, even as he watched Stiles take in his shellacked clothes and prayed the boy wasn’t filled to the brim with regret. 

“Thank you, Stiles. That was– you didn’t have to– I– _thank you.”_ Stiles turned, ignoring the mess to give him the brightest, happiest grin. 

“You needed it, man. I don’t think you realized how much. I’m just kind of honored that you trusted me with it, really. I know what it means to you to be that vulnerable and– you’re probably gonna think I’m crazy, but– it felt amazing to help. I kind of… I dunno, I loved it.” Stiles blushed profusely, shrugging to try and appear nonchalant, but failing miserably. 

Derek chuckled, eyes suddenly starting to water, and he just shook his head as he walked over, dropped one knee on the couch, swung over to straddle Stiles, wrapped both hands around the back of his neck, and kissed him. The boy made a little, funny noise of surprise, stiffening up, eyebrows flying high, but then melted into it. His eyelashes fluttered as his eyes closed. A heavy breath ghosted out his nose. He hummed low in pleasure. 

Derek licked into his mouth, nipped at his lips, and cared little for the mess as he brushed their chests together. When they pulled apart, they both ducked their heads to laugh a little and as Derek let his eyes wander to avoid the intense eye contact, he took note of a little swelling in Stiles’ pants. 

He tutted softly, put on a concerned face and asked Stiles gravely, “You’re looking a little sore, bud. Need some help with that?” Stiles laughed, utterly delighted at having his earlier words thrown right back at him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come leave your own prompt if you want, or just chat me up [over on my tumblr](http://www.drivenbyadevilshunger.tumblr.com)


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